


Different Names for the Same Thing

by SuburbanSun



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alt-POV, Canon Compliant, M/M, Remix, Teen Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: All Alex wants is to lay low at his boring afterschool job at the UFO Emporium ‘til graduation, and then he’s out of Roswell forever. When Michael Guerin starts coming around, things get a little more interesting.A remix of You'll Be Loved, Like You Never Had Known by AndreaLyn.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 22
Kudos: 96
Collections: RNM Fanfic Remix 2020





	Different Names for the Same Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AndreaLyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You'll Be Loved, Like You Never Had Known](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143843) by [AndreaLyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn). 



> It was a bit thrilling and a bit intimidating to be assigned to remix for AndreaLyn, who has a huge catalog of some of my favorite fics in the fandom! Ultimately I chose to remix this one because I loved reading sweet high school Michael's POV so much and wanted to echo that with high school Alex. I hope this one does the original justice (and if you haven't read that one, please do! I think this one can stand alone but you are doing yourself a disservice if you don't read the OG).
> 
> Thanks to [beka1820](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beka1820/pseuds/beka1820) and [InsidiousIntent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsidiousIntent/pseuds/InsidiousIntent) for beta help!

The best part about Alex’s afterschool job at the UFO Emporium was that he rarely had to actually deal with customers, since so few people (tourists _or_ locals) cared enough to shell out $25 to behold the “stunning wonders” the museum had to offer. 

The worst part was literally everything else.

 _No_ , Alex thought as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the sheen of the ticket booth glass. _The worst part is the visor_. 

But it was an excuse to stay out of the house, so he tried to pick up hours whenever he could. Sometimes he even stayed after closing, finding little tasks to complete, exhibits to straighten up. It kept him out of sight and out of mind back home, and for that, Alex supposed, it wasn’t all bad.

The sound of change hitting the countertop startled Alex out of his thoughts, and he felt a jolt of _something_ when he recognized who was standing on the other side of the glass. 

Michael parted his lips, his eyes wide, curls wild, and Alex tried his best not to notice any of it. 

“I didn’t know you worked here.” 

Before Alex could answer, Michael had dropped half his change and whacked his head against the counter. Alex pushed himself up out of his chair, wondering if he even knew where the Emporium kept the first aid kit, but Michael insisted he was fine. He was standing upright and making small talk, so Alex assumed he didn’t have a concussion. 

“So you… like aliens?” Michael asked, and all at once Alex wished for the ground to open underneath him and swallow him up, never to be seen in Roswell again. He didn’t know much about impressing boys, but he knew that it probably wasn’t a great thing for the cute, smart guy whose warm chuckle from one desk over and one desk back in English always sent a zip of adrenaline up his spine to think of him as one of _those_ people. 

Alex shrugged, looking down at the quarters he was counting to hide his embarrassed flush. “I really just needed the job. I’m not sure I believe in aliens. I’m definitely not one of those weirdos who come into this place and fetishize them.”

He printed out the annual pass and the receipt, sliding it across the counter along with a pen for Michael to sign. He didn’t sell many annual passes, and certainly never to cute guys he went to school with. “You definitely like aliens, then?”

“I think the Roswell crash is fascinating. But uh, this is for a project,” he said quickly. “I’m doing something for physics.” Michael scribbled out his signature and slid the receipt back to Alex, looking pensive. “I thought maybe I could theorize about interstellar travel.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. He wanted to laugh, but something about the earnestness on Michael’s face made him suppress the urge. “With the stuff we have? I doubt it.” At once, he knew it was the wrong thing to say, because Michael just _stared_ at him. Had he taken it as an insult? Did Alex have something on his face? He picked up the pen, still warm from Michael’s grip, and rolled it between his fingers to keep himself from reaching up to check. When Michael still didn’t look away, Alex cleared his throat, grimaced, and muttered, “Enjoy the exhibits,” just like he was instructed to do every time a customer came through the door.

With a tight nod, Michael was gone, and Alex sank back in his flimsy chair. 

If that’s the best he could manage when left alone with a boy he’d been nursing a tiny crush on since the end of sophomore year, then Alex knew he was doomed forever.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Hey, Connor,” Alex said, keeping his tone light and concentrating on entering the combination on his locker. Connor Rogers had the bottom locker two over from Alex’s, and looked up from his crouch with suspicion. “What’s up?” 

“Uh…” he said, drawing out the sound. “Nothing much?” 

So maybe Alex hadn’t had a conversation with Connor since they’d been paired together for a project in 9th grade Political Science. It wasn’t personal; they just traveled in different circles. It wasn’t like it was weird for Alex to strike up a casual conversation in the middle of their senior year, or anything. 

Connor blinked up at him, still looking distrustful, and Alex sighed. Better to cut to the chase, then. 

“You have AP Physics with Klein 3rd period, right?” he asked, focusing on switching out the books in his backpack for the ones in his locker. 

“Yeah…” Connor said. 

“Heard you guys have some killer end-of-year project. How’s that going?” 

Connor shut his locker and stood up, hoisting his backpack onto one shoulder. “Uh… if we do, she hasn’t assigned it yet. Our grade in that class is like, 90% based on the final.” 

Alex furrowed his brow. “No extra credit projects or anything?”

He scoffed and shook his head. “I wish. She doesn’t allow extra credit. Why, you thinking of getting held back so you can take AP Physics? If so, I’d say you’re a real dumbass.” 

“No reason,” Alex said, muttering his thanks and closing his locker door. He’d hoped to get a little background on the project Michael was working on, so that when— _if—_ he came back into the museum, Alex might be prepared to have a real conversation like an actual intelligent life form. He headed for his next class, mulling over reasons Michael might have been mistaken about a project. Or maybe made one up? 

Ultimately, it didn’t really matter, because weeks of afternoon shifts went by, and Michael never showed up. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Until he did. 

Alex sat up straighter in his chair when Michael’s face appeared at the ticket window. He’d seen him at school that afternoon, but there was something about seeing him out of context that made Alex feel shaken off his axis. Like Michael had come to see _him_ , instead of a warehouse full of dusty props.

He scanned the annual pass, and couldn’t help but let their fingers brush as he handed it back, just the slightest hint of skin on skin. It made him shiver, and then it made him mentally chastise himself for indulging in this foolish daydream about a boy who was very likely very straight.

“You got tours?” Michael asked, pulling Alex out of his thoughts. 

“You seriously want the tour?” He wondered if maybe Michael was making fun of him. _Nobody_ ever wanted the tour. 

“Yeah man,” Michael said. He laughed, and it came out cocky, but not cruel. Alex tried to relax. He knew he had a tendency to get his hackles raised unnecessarily. “Are you the guide?” 

As if they could afford a second employee. He told him as much, then sighed, pulling the tour guide hat out from underneath the desk. He blew a thin layer of dust off it, though the dust might have been an improvement. Sucking in a breath, he flipped the sign saying he’d be back in five and braced himself for humiliation. 

When he got to the lobby, Michael had his back turned, perusing an outdated flyer on the wall about a new exhibit. _Now or never_ , Alex told himself, and swapped his regular visor for the ostentatious hat. It was predictably green, and topped with a pair of silver antennae, one of which persisted in drooping down into Alex’s field of vision. He hated everything about it. 

Michael turned around and his eyes lit up. He stepped closer to Alex and poked at one of the antennae, trying and failing to suppress a smile. 

“I know, it’s ridiculous,” Alex said with a wince. He couldn’t believe this was his life. 

Michael’s smile widened, and he shrugged. “I don’t know, you look kind of good.” 

The words made Alex feel hot all over, and he had to look down at the floor to collect himself. Maybe the hat wasn’t _so_ bad. 

The tour was blessedly brief; Alex was surprised he managed to stretch the three-and-a-half rooms of memorabilia into 15 full minutes. But there was a moment as he watched Michael examine a bit of mechanical debris, a look of utter fascination and focus on his face, that he wished he could make it last just a little longer. 

They’d run out of exhibits, though, and were standing back in the lobby like they’d barely even left it. 

“Feel like you got your money’s worth?” Alex asked, shifting awkwardly from side to side and raising his eyebrows. 

A little smirk appeared on Michael’s face, and he nodded. “I’d say it was worth it.” 

Swallowing for want of anything else to say, Alex picked up his visor from the hook on the wall and gestured with it. “I’m gonna…” 

He stepped over to the mirror hanging on the wall beside the exit, the trick one that made it look like you were standing next to a little green alien. The words “Don’t leave without a new friend— they come in peace!” were swirled in fading green paint along the top edge of the glass. He found a patch that was only mirror and pulled off the antennae hat, grimacing at the mess it had made of his hair. He pushed his free hand through it, though he knew from experience that it was futile. It never did quite what he wanted it to. 

He was about to give up, when something in the reflection caught his eye, and he realized that Michael had been watching him. A hot feeling sluiced through him, some odd mixture of shame and curiosity and pure, honest _want_ , and just as suddenly as he’d been noticed, Michael turned away. 

“Um, I’ll— I’ll see you at school,” he said, not meeting Alex’s eyes, then slipped out the door into the dusky night, leaving Alex standing alone in the deserted lobby. His breath was coming fast, like he’d just run around the block, and he cursed himself for whatever it was he’d done to make Michael feel uncomfortable. 

Next time, he promised himself, he’d be better. 

* * *

Alex was humming along to a song as he spritzed the front windows and wiped them down with a clean rag. As if enough people had come through the museum to leave fingerprints. 

By the time he heard the insistent knock on the glass, whoever it was must have been trying to get his attention for awhile. He yanked his headphones off when he realized it was Michael at the door. 

“Hey, sorry— I was, uh,” he said once he’d opened the door. He gestured lamely at his headphones. “Cleaning. Didn’t hear you.” 

Michael smiled and shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s almost closing time.” His smile faltered, and he peered over Alex’s shoulder into the museum. “Is that— is that okay?” 

“Yeah, sure, of course.” Alex opened the door wider, backing up to let Michael in. “There’s still another fifteen minutes ‘til I have to lock up, so…”

Michael looked torn between staying to talk to Alex and making a beeline for the exhibits, and Alex idly wondered what he was looking for in there if he didn’t _actually_ have an AP Physics project to do. They stood still for a few long moments, as Alex tried to think of something clever to say. 

“Ah— I’m just gonna—” Michael began, breaking the silence. He ran a hand through his curls, making them unruly as ever, and gestured with his thumb toward the exhibit rooms. 

“Oh, yeah, go ahead.” 

Puffing out a breath, Alex returned to the window. The song he’d been listening to sounded tinny through the headphones still hanging around his neck, but he didn’t want to put them back on for fear of missing out on… something. He scrubbed the window cleaner than it had ever been before. 

“Guess it’s about that time,” came Michael’s voice from behind him not much later. Alex glanced over at the UFO-shaped clock on the wall, which read 9:05. Michael followed his gaze with an apologetic wince.

“Yeah… I wanted to get here earlier, but I picked up a little work over at Foster Ranch. Sorry if you’re stuck here because of me.” 

“No, no, that’s okay.” Alex fiddled with the trigger of the spray bottle. “I don’t mind. And actually, if you ever need me to keep it open a little late, that’s fine. They don’t check the security cameras, or anything. Not like there’s anything in there that’s actually worth something,” he added with a laugh. Michael looked almost relieved, and Alex tried not to wonder why. 

“Well, I don’t want to keep you, so…” Michael tucked his hands in his pockets and took a few steps toward the exit door. “I’ll try to come by earlier sometime this week. Maybe tomorrow.” 

Alex smiled at the prospect. “Yeah,” he said softly, as Michael waved and slipped out the door. “Maybe tomorrow.” 

* * *

The next day, Michael was there an hour before closing. And again over the weekend. And the next week, he came in three days in a row. He didn’t always stay for long, and he spent most of his time in the exhibits, but Alex actually started to look forward to coming to work for the first time in… ever. 

Sometimes while he sat in the ticket booth, doodling on the back of the menu from the Chinese restaurant next door and waiting for Michael to finish up in the museum, he daydreamed about how he might get more time with him. Offer a more in-depth tour, maybe ( _of what?_ ), or ask him to stick around to help Alex with his English essay. 

Every time, he chickened out, and every time he reminded himself that there was always a next time.

Until there wasn’t. 

* * *

It was a Saturday late in the semester, and Alex was 10 minutes overdue for his break. He had pulled his brown sack lunch out of the cabinet underneath the counter, but every time he moved to get up out of his chair, he couldn’t do it.

 _It’s just lunch_ , he told himself, rolling his eyes at his own inner monologue. At length, he heaved a sigh, then forced himself up and into the museum proper. 

Michael looked up from the poster he’d been examining in the lobby, eyes wide like he’d been caught. Alex took a breath and smiled. “You hungry?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s lunch break, and I get really tired of eating alone, staring at little green men,” Alex said. He held up the bag clutched just a shade too tightly in his fist, and hoped that had sounded less awkward than he thought it had. “I’ll share with you if you stick around?” 

Michael’s was silent for a moment, and Alex swallowed thickly. Michael had already been spending enough time at the museum, he supposed. He probably didn’t want to stay even longer, not to split a sad turkey-on-wheat in a break room the size of a closet. _What were you thinking?_

“Yeah,” Michael said simply, and Alex blinked in surprise. Clearing his throat and biting back a smile, he gestured for Michael to follow him into the back room.

“Here,” he said, after they’d sat across the small table from each other in grimy plastic chairs. He was glad he’d thought to cut his sandwich in half when he’d made it earlier that morning as he held one half out to Michael, who took it, looking almost reverent. “Hope you like turkey.” 

There weren’t many things to look at in the break room, so Alex didn’t feel that guilty as he watched Michael chew in silence. He pulled the chips out of his lunch bag and opened them, setting the bag on the table between them so they could both reach. Their eyes met. Michael smiled around his bite. 

“I finished my project,” he said after swallowing. Alex frowned, furrowing his brow as Michael continued. “So I guess that means I won’t be coming by so much anymore.” 

Not for the first time, Alex wondered what had kept Michael so occupied in the exhibit rooms all semester, what had kept him coming back. It wasn’t a physics project, but Alex supposed it also wasn’t any of his business. And whatever it was, it apparently wasn’t enough to make him _keep_ coming. 

“Oh,” Alex said, after he realized he might have gone silent for too long. “Did you get everything you needed?” He thought maybe Michael would take the opportunity to come clean, to tell him what he’d been looking for. To tell him he wasn’t hoping in vain that it might have been, in some small part, because of Alex.

“Yeah, I think I’ve exhausted everything I can here,” Michael said instead. Alex blinked a few times, looking down. He reached into his lunch bag to give him something to focus on instead of the disappointment blooming in his chest, pulling out a packaged cupcake. 

“Can’t forget about dessert,” he said, opening the crinkly plastic packaging. He noticed Michael’s eyes tracking his movements as he split the cupcake in two and handed one half over. Michael hesitated, but took it, taking a big bite that smeared chocolate across his lower lip, crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. Alex’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the way his tongue peeked out, swiping the chocolate from his lip but missing the crumbs entirely. He let out a breathy chuckle. “You missed a little…”

Michael looked up at him like a deer in headlights. “What?”

He just looked so adorable, sitting there with his eyes wide and hair as wild as ever, chocolate on his cheek. Alex laughed again; he couldn’t help it. Then, like some sort of out-of-body experience, he reached out with one hand and brushed the crumbs off Michael’s face with the pad of his thumb, just barely grazing his lips in the process.

The look Michael gave him in return made something swoop in Alex’s stomach. It made him start to wonder. 

“What about you?” Michael asked, clearing his throat and shattering the moment. “You going to keep working here?” 

Alex grimaced, shaking his head. He was strangely grateful for the change of subject. It allowed him to tamp down some of the foolish hope that had started to well up within him. “As soon as I can, I’m getting out of here,” he said with all the certainty he could muster. “I want to make music. I figure I’ll head out to California, write some songs.” He didn’t know what was making him open up in a way he hadn’t, really, not to anyone besides Maria and Liz and maybe Mimi. Something about Michael just made him want to. “Some days, I sit with my guitar in the music room and I think about what it’ll be like anywhere but here.” 

“I know that feeling,” Michael said softly, a crooked smile on his face. Alex wondered what it was that Michael wanted to escape from. Maybe it was the same thing that made him come to the museum so often, losing time in the exhibits. Maybe they had more in common than he’d realized. 

Alex crumpled up the empty cupcake wrapper and chip bag, stuffing them back in the paper sack. It didn’t really matter what they had in common, not so close to graduation. In a month or two, they’d both be long gone. “I heard you got a full ride to UNM,” he said as he crushed the bag into a tighter ball in his hands.

Michael looked surprised. “That news traveled fast, huh?” 

“Yeah, well,” Alex said, shrugging. “Our teachers are thrilled.” Plenty of kids from RHS ended up at UNM, but rarely on scholarship, and never with a full ride. At least, so Mrs. Gonzalez had told their Spanish class. “It’ll be really different from this place. Better.” It had to be. He hoped California would be, too.

When Michael didn’t answer, Alex tossed their lunch trash into the empty can in the corner, sparing a glance for the closed-circuit TV monitor mounted on the wall. 

“Shit,” he muttered, standing up fast and haphazardly tugging his visor back on. “I’ve got tourists at the desk.” No one had come by all morning, and _now_ , when he finally had a few minutes alone with Michael, _now_ they decided to go sightseeing in downtown Roswell? 

Michael agreed to let himself out, and Alex darted back to the ticket window just in time. Once he’d sold them their tickets and told them to enjoy the exhibits, he settled back into his chair with a sigh. A heavy, cold feeling began to form like a stone in his stomach as he realized he might not see Michael again outside of school. 

Maybe not ever. 

* * *

Days later, some kid in the music room said he’d seen Michael Guerin walk away with his guitar, and Alex stalked off to find him.

Weeks later, he misread the situation entirely and tried to kiss him. 

A few agonizing days after that, though, Michael was in his arms, warm and solid and _alive_ under his hands as they kissed beneath a glow-in-the-dark sky, and Alex forgot all about UNM and California and scholarships and music and anything that wasn’t Michael Guerin’s lips on his.

If he just kept kissing him, Alex thought, he’d be content to stay right there— in Roswell, in the UFO Emporium, even with his stupid T-shirt and stupid visor— forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on tumblr? I'm [unbreakablejemmasimmons](https://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com/) over there!


End file.
